


Code Blue

by Aposiopesis



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Enterprise, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-09-10 21:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8939119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aposiopesis/pseuds/Aposiopesis
Summary: They were alone and now they are not. But who has gathered them and why?Star Trek Secret Santa 2016 gift fic. Prompt: "all the Trek doctors." Complete.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [projectivepearl](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=projectivepearl).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, everyone!
> 
> Content warnings: Light misgendering, injury mention. The entire fic is filled with medical themes.

Phlox looked up from an orchid he was tending. While he'd noted the peculiar human tendency to call any bilaterally symmetrical flower with a labellum an "orchid," leading to anything from a _favinit_ to an Edosian death herb being labeled as such, this was indeed an orchid — specifically, _Vanda tessellata_ from the Indian subcontinent.

Many humans — the type who signed up for long space voyages, anyway — couldn't see the benefit of taking a medicinal plant into space when the medicinal properties could also be found in a pill or hypospray of some sort. Of _course_ they could, but that wasn't the point at all.

Besides, he found tending to the various plants, fungi, animals, and lifeforms not classifiable in any Earth taxonomy that made their homes in his lab relaxing.

What had caught his eye was a strange halo around the electric lights that hadn't been there before.

The intercom beeped cheerily. "Archer to Phlox."

Phlox put his tools down. He walked over and pressed the intercom button. "Phlox here, Captain."

"We're getting some anomalous energy readings. The coms are going to go down any minute. You okay back there?"

Phlox smiled. "No problem, Captain. I'll be watering my plants if you need me."

"Let us know if you nee — " The intercom cut out suddenly.

"Ah," Phlox said.

A blue light enveloped the room.

 

McCoy sighed. "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, Jim; check if it's toxic _before_ you touch it."

"I don't know that I'd call hir an 'it,' Bones," Kirk protested. "Ze's the ambassador to — "

"Yes, I'm sure ze's lovely, but seeing as last time it was a statue, and the time before that it was a contagious fungus, I can't afford to be that specific with my pronouns. Now hold still."

McCoy pressed the hypospray into Kirk's arm with slightly more force than was needed.

"Oh, where's your sense of adventure?"

"It packed its bags and took the first shuttle back to Earth three years ago."

"You know, Doctor, I've always loved your bedside manner," Kirk joked.

"Don't put weight on that hand for two days. And no more shaking hands with any alien dignitaries until you've gotten my approval, got it?"

"I'll hold my PADDs in my left hand."

Kirk left to go discover a new planet filled with scorpion lava, or whatever it was he did when Bones was alone in the sickbay.

"Nurse Chapel?" he asked. "Could you fill out the report?"

There was no answer.

"I'll do it myself, then," he muttered.

He sat down to fill out the report for Kirk's visit, and the blue light engulfed him.

 

Crusher stormed down the hall, slapping her combadge. "Crusher to the bridge."

"Picard here. How are the patients?"

"Nurse Ogawa and the others are just finishing up with the patients on Deck 6. They'll be sore in the morning, but alive. I'm going back to sickbay to prepare the away team's doses of the antiviral — they were exposed longer than anyone, so they'll need higher concentrations of the soporific compound."

"Understood. Let me know if you need anything."

"Will do. Crusher out."

The sickbay was empty. Temperature was a constant on starships, but the lights felt colder here somehow.

Preparing an extra strength version of her latest antiviral — an original invention — was difficult, but straightforward, and took about ten minutes.

Crusher hailed the bridge again. "The antiviral needs to chill for at least half an hour, but then it'll be ready to use. Deanna and the others should be back on their feet in no time."

The blue light waited until she had ended the conversation.

 

Sometimes Bashir felt like he worked in an old Parisian pharmacy. He'd seen them before — not in person, of course, as they'd long since been retired — but from the holographic replicas he'd seen of the exteriors, the resemblance was striking.

Inside, it was quite different. Deep Space 9 didn't have all the latest technology, but the infirmary ran like a top — save that one biobed with the "faulty" sensors he'd had O'Brien rig up for when Garak would come in with a week-old stab wound and claim, "I must have cut myself shaving, don't you think?"

Sisko walked in wearing an old sports uniform. "Doctor! Care to take me up on that baseball offer? Jake-o's team needs another to make the numbers even."

Bashir winced. "Ah, sorry, I've got more work to do than I anticipated. Tests I need to run, that sort of thing. Maybe next time."

"I'll get you on that field one of these days," Sisko said, smirking. "Just you wait."

"I look forward to it," Bashir lied cheerily. If he could reset his motor skills, then he'd play.

"Maybe I can get the old man to play," Sisko muttered. He walked off, presumably in search of Dax.

Bashir picked up a random PADD. Vilix'pran's post-reproductive care. He set it down again.

The blue light was there before he knew it.

 

The Doctor adjusted a sign just outside sickbay. Today, his name was Eric.

The crew had been happy enough to humor him in his attempts to find a new name by brute force. He'd randomized the list order, so as not to bias himself or the crew with semantic satiation, but he doubted he'd get through it all before they reached Earth the hard way. Yesterday, his name had been Helen. He'd quite liked that. The day before, his name had been Anthony, which he had hated immediately. He wasn't sure how Eric was going to stack up, but the day was young.

Eric placed his mobile emitter into its charging station, then sang to himself as he refilled the hyposprays.

"Dites, la jeune belle,

Où voulez-vous aller?

La voile enfle son aile,

La brise va souffler!"

Janeway ran into the sickbay.

"Captain, how nice to — "

She held up her hand. "Not now, Doctor. Both the replicators in my office and in my quarters are broken, and I need sleep medication."

Eric took a scan of Janeway. "Well, no wonder. You've been drinking so much coffee that your biological clock has no idea what time it is. Captain, you really should consider switching to decaf."

"I didn't understand that sentence, Doctor, so I'll pretend I didn't hear it."

Eric sighed. "Here." He hyposprayed Janeway's neck. "This should help in the short term, but we need to talk about — "

"Got it, thanks!" Janeway said as she ran down the hall.

"Typical," he muttered, and the blue light overtook him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Edosian orchids" are a canon Trek thing, though they're not called death herbs in canon. Trek loves its orchids.
> 
> The French text is from ["L'ile inconnue,"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sqtgWifOojU) the last song in the song cycle _Les nuits d'été._ While it's not technically an opera per se, it was written by Hector Berlioz, who wrote several operas.
> 
> I have some holiday plans, after which I'll update this fic. Expect edits and Ch. 2 in January. I hope you enjoy, and if you do, please leave a comment and kudos!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The doctors meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, as promised, here's a new chapter in January! Life is getting a bit complicated right now, so expect the next section in February. From what I can tell, this is going to be 3 or 4 chapters long, so it'll be done by March at the latest, though I hope it won't come to that.
> 
> I really am sorry for the amount of time this has taken. I'm not working on the rest of my fanfic until I've finished this, but other parts of life are getting in the way and... yeah. I'm going to try to get it finished in February if I can!

Phlox looked around. He'd seen rooms like the one he currently occupied during his time on Earth, usually in the homes of humans a few decades older than him. This one was a fully furnished "living room," though it was too cluttered for his taste.

"Hello?" he asked the air.

Nobody was there.

A small, glowing sign by the door read, "Please wait for service."

Phlox sat down and waited, though not for long.

 

McCoy shuddered. He was in what appeared to be an early twenty-first century upper class home. As he saw the sign, he muttered, "'Please wait for service?' Where the devil am I?"

"Oh, hello," a voice said.

McCoy turned to look at the speaker. They were Denobulan, sitting primly in a chair, and vaguely familiar. "I'm Dr. Phlox," the Denobulan said. "From the _Enterprise_."

McCoy scoffed. "Yeah, and I'm Captain Archer."

The person calling themself Phlox frowned. "Ah, sarcasm. I'll admit it's unlikely to see the only Denobulan serving on a Starfleet vessel in a setting like this, but it is true."

"Ha! Look, I know you Denobulans don't age like we do, but you'd have to be, what, one hundred seventy, eighty years old by now? That's hard to believe."

"I believe you may have me confused with someone else," Phlox replied. "I was born in 2090."

"Which would make you one hundred seventy eight or nine. Look — "

 

Crusher blinked. The strange room's decorator apparently loved the twenty-first century. A human was standing over a Denobulan. They were in the middle of something — nonviolent by the looks of it — and they hadn't expected her to be there. "What's going on?" she asked. "I have patients I need to get back to!"

"We don't have any more idea than you do, ma'am," the human said. "I'm Dr. Leonard McCoy, and the Denobulan claims he's Phlox."

The Denobulan looked nervous. "Well, that's true. I _am_ Phlox."

Crusher put her hands on her hips. "You're telling me the two most famous CMOs of starships named _Enterprise_ just happen to be in this… vintage living room?"

"Two?" Phlox asked. "I'm afraid I don't recall another _Enterprise_."

"Well, you wouldn't, if you're who you say you are," Crusher said. "I'm starting to see a pattern."

 

Bashir stepped back reflexively, then caught himself. He was in an unfamiliar room with an old Earth aesthetic. "Whoa."

"Julian Bashir? So much for my pattern," Crusher muttered.

"Beverly Crusher?" Bashir asked. "Is that you?"

"Yes, and these two gentlemen are Drs. McCoy and Phlox."

Bashir's eyes widened. "Not _the_ — "

"Yes, _the_. As far as I can tell, anyway."

"But wouldn't that make them…" He already knew the answer, but he paused so it'd seem like he was thinking. "One hundred forty two and two hundred seventy nine Earth years old respectively?" He looked at the two men he'd only seen in medical texts and lowered his voice. "They look a bit young, don't you think?"

"It could be time travel," Crusher offered.

"But then — what stardate is it for you?"

"46596.9, or it was a few hours ago. I remember I had to ask the computer when patients started being admitted to sickbay for uncontrollable screaming. A virus I'd never seen before was driving everyone's psilosynine levels through the roof."

"Oh, Crusher's disease?"

"Let me guess, it's not the '6590s for you, is it?"

"Something in the 49570s, last I checked."

McCoy walked over to Bashir and Crusher. "Mind sharing what you have to say with the rest of us?"

 

The room flickered for a second. Phlox stood up with a start as the chair below him shook.

"Oh, what's going on now?" McCoy grumbled.

"I'm afraid I know as much as you do here," Bashir said. "Holograms were never my speciality."

_"Holograms?!"_

The room turned to wireframes. A new wireframe appeared in an empty space, and then the room rendered itself correctly again.

The new hologram was the image of a bald human. To Phlox and McCoy, this image had no particular significance, but it filled Bashir with interest and Crusher with dread.

"Not this thing," Crusher grumbled. "I promised I'd never use an EMH."

"What's an EMH?" Phlox and McCoy asked in unison.

"Emergency Medical Hologram," Bashir said. "They're meant to be used short term when the medical crew of a starship is incapacitated."

Eric looked around. "Please state the nature of the — What's going on? Where am I? Why am I surrounded by famous Starfleet doctors? If this is a kidnapping, I'll have you know _Voyager_ will come for me, and then you'll really be sorry!"

" _Voyager_?" Bashir asked with surprise. "What stardate is it?"

Eric frowned. "51413.4, of course."

"And when were you first activated?"

"48315.5."

Bashir's eyes widened. "That's the day _Voyager_ disappeared! It was the talk of the station! Is the crew alright?"

Eric rolled his eyes. "Well, yes, that's why there's a hologram running sickbay."

"It's _running_ sickbay? I'd hate to be a patient," Crusher muttered.

"'It'?" Eric snapped. "I have a name, you know!"

"What's your name, then, Emergency Medical Hologram?" Phlox asked kindly.

"Thank you for asking, Dr. Phlox. My name is — "

The Doctor was already starting to hate the name Eric. It just didn't seem to fit. He cleared his throat. "My name is Dr. Aurelio Zimmerman."

"It's nice to meet you, Dr. Zimmerman," Phlox said, hoping he was getting the human introduction script correct.

"How far in the future do they start using 5-digit stardates?" Bones asked.

"What _is_ a stardate, for that matter?" Phlox added.

"Oh, excellent," said an unfamiliar, lilting voice. "You're all here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phlox's birth year isn't technically canon, but we know he was born in the late 21st century. I'm hoping the stardates make sense — they're an attempt to place the characters on the canon timeline.
> 
> Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please leave kudos and/or a comment!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The doctors learn why they are here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It'll be done by March at the latest," I said... Well, at least it's here now. (Sorry.)
> 
> Content warning: injury mention.

Aurelio looked around twitchily. "Who's there?"

"What do you want with us?" Crusher asked.

"Do not fear," the voice said. "All will be explained shortly."

A form walked into the room through a wall. Bizarrely, the entity looked exactly like Zefram Cochrane, but with bright blue skin.

Blue Zefram Cochrane smiled calmly. "I hope this does not cause you undue distress, but I am not actually Zefram Cochrane the human astronaut." Their voice was not that of Zefram Cochrane, but a more natural take on a Starfleet computer.

"I am from a coalition of energy beings who have never felt the need for a collective designation. _My_ name is — " There was a screeching sound and several flashes of light. "However, since that is impossible for beings such as yourselves to pronounce, you may instead call me Zefram."

"Why do you…" McCoy gestured vaguely. "Why Zefram Cochrane?"

"We thought you would find it comforting if you were greeted by a familiar face," Zefram said. "The human whose invention sparked the founding of your organization seemed only appropriate."

"What organization would that be?" Phlox asked.

Zefram shook their head. "I'm afraid, Dr. Phlox, that I cannot answer that question, as it pertains to your future."

"Why blue?" Bashir asked.

"Blue? I'm not sure what you mean," Zefram said. "What does blue have to do with anything?"

"Sir, I've met the real Zefram Cochrane," McCoy said, "and I distinctly remember he wasn't bright blue."

"Oh, you're talking about colors." Zefram laughed. "I'm sure you are correct, Dr. McCoy; I am unused to humanoid color perception. If you have a photographic reference or — "

"All this is missing the point," Crusher said. "You still haven't answered my question. What do you want with us?"

Zefram looked shocked. "Oh, forgive me, Dr. Crusher, I forgot your species can only comprehend linear time. My coalition needs your assistance with a problem."

"What kind of problem could five doctors trained in humanoid physiology help an energy being — or multiple energy beings — with?" Aurelio asked.

"Humanoid physiology, of course," Zefram said.

 

Zefram explained the problem. Their explanation was met with two minutes of silence.

"You want to _what?_ " McCoy asked.

"It's simple enough, I assure you," Zefram said. "We don't want to be energy beings anymore."

"So you want us to make you humanoid," Bashir said. "Why humanoid?"

"Well, so many energy beings were humanoid at one point or another," Zefram said. "Then, they transcended their physical forms and became energy beings. We want to see what 'all the fuss is about,' as you might say."

Aurelio paced back and forth. "But going from energy to some sort of a humanoid form — wouldn't you lose your abilities? Your perception?"

Zefram shrugged in an overly practiced way. "We are told that having fewer senses can give a unique perspective on the world."

"Is there, um, a pattern species you had in mind?" Phlox asked.

Crusher gaped. "You're not seriously considering this?"

"I haven't made up my mind about that, Doctor… Crusher, was it? I simply believe that we should get more details before making a decision."

Zefram smiled. "A splendid attitude, Dr. Phlox. We'd like to be something unique, if it isn't too much trouble."

"How many energy beings would we need to convert?" Bashir asked.

"Oh, no more than five hundred, I should think," Zefram said absently.

McCoy stared in amazement. "Five _hundred?_ My god, man, it'd be hard enough to do this with one!"

“Well, it shouldn’t be too hard to scale it.” Zefram’s face betrayed no knowledge of the actual difficulty of such a task.

“And if we say no?” Bashir asked.

Zefram waved a hand. “Oh, we’ll just keep picking random assortments of highly qualified doctors from various backgrounds and time periods until we find a group that’s willing.”

The doctors looked at each other.

“We need to talk about this in private before we make a decision,” Crusher said.

“Oh, of course. I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Zefram laughed and walked through the wall. “Minutes! What an amusing concept!”

 

McCoy was the first to speak. “We have to help these people. It’s the only right thing to do.”

“Is it really ethical to assist a group of strangers in transforming themselves so completely?” Aurelio protested. “You heard Zefram; this species never had a humanoid stage. They have no frame of reference for what they’re requesting!”

“Neither does a collection of photons,” Crusher said, “but given that I haven’t seen a Q show up, we’ve got to go with what we know. And what I know is that this would require better medical technology than any of us possesses. Even if it’s the right thing to do, it’ll be nigh impossible to pull off.”

McCoy’s eyes were so wide when he glared that they looked like they were going to pop out of his head. “That’s no reason not to try!”

“We have no guarantee of the outcome,” Phlox pointed out. “What if their makeup is incompatible with a humanoid form? What if their new instincts lead them to become warmongers?”

“What if they lead the galaxy to a lasting peace?” Bashir asked. “Both are possible, and we have no way of knowing which, if either, would be the case. And who knows how many other people they would abduct to get the results they want?”

Nobody wanted to respond to that.

Crusher sighed. “The rest of you can do what you want, but I’m going to try.”

“I’m with her.” McCoy raised his hand. “All in favor?”

Crusher and Bashir raised their hands. Phlox, after a few seconds, hesitantly raised a finger.

Aurelio looked at the others. “Seriously? All of you? Don’t you see any problems with this?”

“Well, then let’s talk it out,” Bashir said. “What are the problems you see?”

When the ten minutes were up, Zefram walked back through the wall.

“We’ve decided to help you,” Crusher said, “but we have some conditions.”

“We’re only going to perform the procedure on one of you,” McCoy said, “and we’ll teach you how to do it to each other.”

“And we’ll try our best, but if we can’t do it, or something goes wrong, you can’t hold us accountable,” Crusher added.

“Regardless of our success or failure, when we’re done, you’ll take us back to our appropriate places in linear spacetime,” Bashir said.

“If any more of your people want to become humanoid, they have to individually consent to the procedure.” Aurelio wasn’t making eye contact with anyone.

“And the Minshara-class planet you live on as humanoids has to be in an unpopulated region of space,” said Phlox.

Zefram’s eyebrows shot up. The effect looked odd, as the eyebrows apparently weren’t connected to Zefram’s head. “Yes, all of that is perfectly acceptable. I’m so glad you’ve decided to help us.”

 

The actual work took a few weeks even aided by the energy beings. Bashir realized that the best way to replicate humanoid bodies would be by analyzing a large corpus of transporter patterns, and the result in Aurelio’s simulations was something that was somehow both very average for a humanoid yet unique among them.

McCoy adjusted the shape and makeup of the body’s various structures and remarked often on how the future’s medical tools were so much easier to use but simultaneously worse. Crusher grew myriad tissue samples to check on their growth. Phlox selected a careful blend of bacteria to serve as a rudimentary immune system until the new humanoids could adjust to their environment.

When preparations were complete, Zefram and another energy being approached them. “We’re ready to begin.”

The procedure took over a day. It didn’t involve any blades or lasers, merely a replicator positioned over a bio-bed with a holo-emitter, but every component was arduous. But when they were done, the volunteer blinked their eyes and looked around as if nothing was wrong.

“Wonderful! Simply wonderful!” Zefram said. “I can’t wait to try humanoid life for myself. Thank you, all of you!”

“Don’t mention it,” McCoy said from a chair he hadn’t left in the past hour.

There was a blue light, and then everything disappeared.

 

Phlox found himself in a completely dark room. The lights flickered on and he realized it was his lab.

The intercom beeped. “Tucker to Phlox.”

He pressed the button absently. “Phlox here.”

“We’ve passed through the energy field. Are you feeling all right? You sound exhausted.”

“If you, T’Pol, and the captain could meet me in sick bay, I’d be happy to explain.”

 

“Doctor McCoy?” Chapel called from the other room.

“Yes, what is it?” McCoy asked.

Chapel looked shocked. “There you are! I had stepped out for lunch, and when I came back, I couldn’t find you. What on earth happened?”

“That’s a long story,” McCoy said. “In fact, I should go find Jim and Spock right now.”

 

As soon as Crusher arrived in her sick bay, her combadge started yelling at her.

“Data to Doctor Crusher. Can you respond?”

Crusher sat down on the nearest biobed. “I’m here, Data.”

Data walked out of her office. “Data to Commander Riker. I have located Doctor Crusher. She is in sick bay, and she appears unhurt.” He clicked his combadge off. “Internal sensors did not register you on the ship for over thirty minutes. Are you aware of what happened during that time?”

Crusher frowned. “Thirty minutes? No, it couldn’t have been.”

Data raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps we should discuss this with the senior officers.”

“That sounds lovely, Data.”

 

Bashir came back just before Dax walked briskly into the infirmary.

She pointed to her face, which had a developing black eye. “I got hit with a baseball. Kira’s got a killer arm.”

Bashir ran his tricorder over it. “It’s just a bruise, but I can give you something for the pain. Would you like me to remove the hematoma?”

Dax grinned. “Nah, just give me the painkiller. I think it looks cool.”

“Suit yourself.” Bashir pressed the hypospray into her neck. “Is Captain Sisko still in the holosuite?”

“Yeah, when I left it was the bottom of the second. Why?”

“I’ve got something to tell him.”

 

Seven of Nine was running her tricorder over a holo-emitter when the Doctor reappeared.

“Doctor,” she said. “You did not appear when I asked for you.”

“Well, I was abducted by energy beings.”

Seven of Nine looked skeptical. “Really?”

“Yes, really! I’m sorry, it’s been a long few weeks.”

“Captain Janeway visited the sick bay only forty-five minutes ago, and security footage shows that you spoke to her about sleep medicine.”

“That was me, but — you know, I think we should discuss this with her and Chakotay. Once she’s had some sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the fic! I won't be continuing with this concept further; this is all the story I wanted to tell and I have other works I'd like to focus on.
> 
> Be sure to leave kudos and comments if you liked this, as well as check out my other fics! I don't have any other Star Trek content at the moment, but who knows, maybe something I've written for another fandom will strike your fancy.


End file.
